


how it is and how it should be

by quidhitch



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M, flangst, i am a sucker for the flangst, that's fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quidhitch/pseuds/quidhitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d been standing in front of the door he hoped was hers (why did Asami need this many guest rooms in her vacation home?) for at least fifteen minutes and the whole thing was starting to make him feel a little ridiculous and a lot like a lovesick 17 year old boy, which he suddenly and untimely realized he probably still was when it came to her.</p><p>Word count: 1,099</p>
            </blockquote>





	how it is and how it should be

**Author's Note:**

> i am shameless makorra trash and proud.

There was this high-pitched voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Asami yelling at him.

_Let her rest! Give her space! She’s had a long day, and seeing you is only going to make it worse._

But there was this _other_ voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Shady Shin making stupid commentary he was trying very hard to rationalize.

 _You waited_ three _years. You shouldn’t have to wait any longer. And you don't have to do her any favors._

He’d been standing in front of the door he hoped was hers (why did Asami need this many guest rooms in her  _vacation_ home?) for at least fifteen minutes and the whole thing was starting to make him feel a little ridiculous and _a lot_ like a lovesick 17 year old boy, which he suddenly and untimely realized he probably still was when it came to her.

It was time to make a choice, and Shady Shin always did have a habit of making the most despicable crimes sound as menial a task as picking up some groceries. 

Reminding himself gently that he needed to breathe, Mako knocked lightly on the door. “Korra?” he asked quietly, regret already taking the form of a bitter, unnerving taste in his mouth, “Korra, are you awake?”

There was a pause, and then some rustling, and then either a “come in” or a “fuck you”, and even though it was most likely the latter Mako carefully opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The carpet felt soft and squishy between his toes but it did nothing to slow his heart, which beat relentlessly against his ribcage at the thought of seeing moonlight cast dark shadows across her pretty, sharp face.

“Are you naked?”

The question came, muffled, from underneath at least 5 blankets twisted around one ambiguous clump, the only hint said ambiguous clump might be Korra being the fact that it seemed to move. Even though he couldn’t see her, her voice was husky and coarse and it made Mako swallow thickly before answering. 

 “Why would I be naked?”

The mass of blankets shifted again before she replied, in a voice that was slightly clearer, “because the only _logical_ explanation for you being here at such an ungodly hour is a booty call.” 

He frowned. “So I would’ve stripped _befor_ e coming and then walked all the way down the hall past my grandmother’s meditation room, which is currently being occupied by Prince Wu, _completely_ naked?” 

Korra’s head poked hesitantly out of her cocoon, something he wouldn’t even have noticed due to the darkness, but her eyes seemed to catch the starlight that poured in through her open window. The edge of the blankets rested just beneath her nose. She was terrifyingly adorable.

“Come on, it’s not _that_ much of a stretch. You’re so weird about this kind of thing. Remember that night in Zaofu you just stood in the corner of my room _watching_ me sleep–“

“ _Hey_ ,” he cut in, scowling and thinking about how pretty she’d looked that night with loose soft hair that tumbled in chocolatey waves over her golden shoulders, “remember that night in Republic City we slept in the park and I woke up to you drooling all over my shoulder?”

Finally deeming the conversation important enough to relinquish the warmth of Asami’s monkey-goose down comforters, she sat up, the blankets pooling around her waist. She was smiling. She liked this game.

“Remember that time you broke up with me in front of the entire precinct?”

“Remember that time you _kicked_ over my desk in front of the entire precinct?” 

For so long that memory had made something scratch viciously at the bottom of his stomach but now they were both laughing at their own jokes, completely forgetting they weren’t even _remotely_ clever, the noise only fading when Mako’s stomach hurt too much to continue. 

And then something that felt a little like magic happened – this silence fell over them and unlike the other gaps in conversation they’d endured that day, it was comfortable. Hope broke out inside Mako like sunlight through tree leaves because maybe it wasn’t a kiss or a confession of undying love but it was a start and they had been in desperate need of a start. 

Sighing loudly and folding her legs up to her body so she was sitting criss-cross applesauce, Korra patted the spot next to her lightly with a warm, inviting smile. Mako tried to look tentative and careful and not at all like he was tripping over his own feet to get to the spot before she changed her mind and burnt off his eyebrows for interrupting her beauty sleep.

They sat in silence for a little longer. It was one of those rare moments when everything came into focus and Mako was hyperaware of the singular breaths she took, the way she tapped her finger when she was trying to remember something, the shy glances she’d sneak at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could feel the seconds slipping through his fingers, and she could feel it too, and when she looked at him there was a sadness, a brokenness, that made him want punch the lights out of anyone who tried to touch her.

“It can’t happen again, Korra,” he said through clenched teeth, because he was angry that she was sad and broken and she never wrote back. He curled his hands into fists, pressing them together and wishing he could put into words that he needed her make fun of his hair and talk with her mouth full and save herself _and_ the world, but all that came out was a low and hoarse and desperate “Just fucking promise me it won’t happen again.”

She looked at him in a way that said she clearly understood his sanity dangled from the answer about to fall from her lips and so she hesitated, and she considered, and gently nudged her knee against his thigh before saying, “I fucking promise.”

In that moment he wanted so badly to pin her against the pillows and kiss every square inch of her body and remind her hat he was going to be there every step of the way to make sure she made good on her freaking promise, but instead he pressed a kiss on her cheek that probably lingered too long and rose warily from the bed, exhaustion finally sinking into his bones.

“I love you,” she blurted suddenly, nervously, tugging at the ends of her choppily cut hair, “I love you, Mako.” 

His heart thumped painfully inside his chest and the part of his brain only useful for stupid remarks reminded him that was because it was out of practice. 

 “I love you, too, Korra.”


End file.
